


493. Dry house, wet clothes

by SevlinRipley



Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Blankets, Cabins, Cold, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fireplaces, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Pre-Slash, Undressing, Wet Clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-10-02 09:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevlinRipley/pseuds/SevlinRipley
Summary: One eyebrow dips up, as the Georgie’s hand falls from the door knob, shoulders dropping in disappointment. “…Richie. Why - “He stops himself. The interrogation, when he realizes Richie’s shivering. Teeth-chattering and chilled to the bone. Before Georgie can even process another thought, he’s grabbing Richie by the front of his knit sweater, feeling water rush out over his palm with the pressure of his hand. Wringing it out like a washcloth.





	493. Dry house, wet clothes

One eyebrow dips up, as the Georgie’s hand falls from the door knob, shoulders dropping in disappointment. “…Richie. Why - “

He stops himself. The interrogation, when he realizes Richie’s shivering. Teeth-chattering and chilled to the bone. Before Georgie can even process another thought, he’s grabbing Richie by the front of his knit sweater, feeling water rush out over his palm with the pressure of his hand. Wringing it out like a washcloth.

Richie nearly stumbles right into Georgie’s shoulder, pulled close, so that Georgie can shut the door behind them, and then start pushing Richie back, toward the gas fire place in the middle of the room. It sits in a river rock wall, between the kitchen and living room of their cabin. The fire seen from either side of the wall.

Hair dripping all around him, Richie sucks in a little breath of warmer air, and pulls his arms in on himself, shoulders up high to his shuddering jaw. A little noise escapes between his teeth, but ultimately, he doesn’t speak. Which is just as well, because Georgie seems busy, pushing Richie down with a palm to the crown of his head, until he’s sitting before the fire on the area rug. And then Georgie’s sweeping away, leaving Richie with his fogged up glasses to look at the dancing flames, and through to the ebony-colored cabinets at the other side.

A blanket flies onto the floor, crumpling up on itself, and Richie starts to reach for it, but Georgie gently slaps at his hand, getting down on his knees.

His mind is too numb from the cold to object as Georgie begins peeling his faded robin-colored sweater, and white undershirt, both, up and off of his torso, Richie’s arms stiffly agreeing to lift themselves away for access. Georgie’s not audibly tutting at him, but Richie can feel a _look_ pressing into the side of his face.

Richie’s shirts are tossed to the side of him, near the edge of a couch, and Richie’s gripping at his pale, goospimpled arms, pants still squelchy and soaking into the rug beneath him. Georgie gets the blanket wrapped around him, as he kneels behind Richie, folding the blanket, secure, at Richie’s front.

And then, for some reason, perhaps to measure the cold, his hand slips between the cover - warm, so warm - to rest over Richie’s heart.

“I’m not even gonna bother asking if you’re okay…” Georgie says.

He’s cold and shivering and so maybe he’s a little delusional, but Richie swears Georgie’s chin drops over the top of his head, the expanse of Georgie’s neck pressing warmth there, where all his heat had escaped earlier. And Richie closes his eyes, helplessly pressing back into him, clutching to the blanket as soon as his arms are warm enough to work again, from the inside.

“But when you can talk, can you at least tell me what the hell you’re doing here, looking like you walked through an ocean?”

Nodding, jerkily, Richie clenches his teeth tight, urging himself to relax into the surrounding warmth. His eyes, too, close, and he vaguely feels Georgie rocking him back and forth. Just soft sways, as Georgie’s hand keeps over Richie’s chest.

It’s a few minutes later, when Richie finds himself able to speak normally again. Although, that fact doesn’t shake Georgie off of him. Rather, Georgie settles in further, behind him, sitting back, and letting his legs encircle Richie’s. But at least his hand falls from between the cover, and meets his other hand around Richie’s waist, instead.

Less odd… maybe, but even so, Richie feels sort of caught out and off-balance as he says… “Bill - he said I could come up. But my stupid piece o’ shit car decided to stop working partway up the mountain, and there’s no fucking cell service.”

So he’d walked. In the rain. To where he knew their cabin was, getting drenched all along the way.

Georgie supposes he can’t fault Richie entirely, in the end. But he _does_ blame Richie for not having brought a coat with him. Or having some kind of tarp in his car, or a blanket for emergencies. For not getting his ‘piece o’ shit car’ checked out before traveling in it. But then, he _is_ only only twenty-four, living on his own, without anyone to inspect the lack of good habits he has in his day-to-day life.

“Oh, Richie…” Georgie sighs. “When dad and Billy get back from the store, we’ll go get your car, okay?” At least, they’ll try anyway. Might have to use the cabin’s landline to call a tow truck. “You feeling warm enough to come find some clothes to put on?”

And Richie swallows, finding himself reluctant to nod. Hesitant to leave Georgie’s embrace even as silly… as it feels. Silly. And so, so good.

So good that if Richie were any less tired from his trek, he’d probably be panicking a little right now. Heart beating out of his chest.

“Gonna undress me the rest of the way too, George?” slips its way out of Richie’s mouth. Thank god it sounds like a joke.

But even though it does, even though it sounds like Richie’s teasing Georgie and making light of it, Georgie just lifts the blanket up to ruffle over Richie’s still-wet hair and says, gentle, “If you want me to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “A Team” by Ed Sheeran


End file.
